Riders of the Storm

Interlude

AND fell.

Not fair, Enris complained as he tried in vain to grab one of the thousands of branches whipping by his face. Just when…

…the M’hir took him, spun him about, and left him…

…standing. He was standing. That was good.

And being held. He looked down, bemused to find Aryl clinging to him. That was better.

Cautiously, he probed at the new something inside. Definitely not the kind of link he’d shared with his mother.

This was—this was—

“You made me fall.” Aryl pulled back to glare at him. “I don’t believe it. You knocked us off the branch and made me fall.”

“I was falling, too,” Enris pointed out, trying not to smile. He also tried not to dwell on the indignant swell of her lower lip. Briefly. Then he leaned down to explore it more thoroughly with his own.

Which found her fingers. “We’re in Sona,” she told him. Her fingers traced his mouth then followed his jaw. “And this, my dear Chosen, is not allowed.” The lightest imaginable slap. “Yet.”

Chosen. The word sang along his nerves. The reality was like having her nestled by his side, instead of walking to a makeshift door to look out. The ache and need he’d managed to ignore might have never existed, save for how wonderful he felt right now. And how much more wonderful he planned to feel as soon as possible.

Aryl went out the door.

That wasn’t right.

Enris followed. “What do you mean…yet?”

“You two stay with me. That’s the way it is.”

There were more Tuana here, including his uncle’s family, a discovery that at any other time would have occupied his every thought.

Today? Enris looked at his cousin Ezgi, who shrugged, then back at Yuhas. “But we’re Joined.” He liked saying it. Loved feeling it. Every breath contained his awareness of Aryl, her joy to be aware of him. It drove the pain and grief to the shadows of his mind, like the rising of the sun.

He didn’t like being told he couldn’t go any closer than that feeling until Husni and the others said so.

His friend laughed. “We all go through it.” A fleeting sadness. “Your father endured me while I wanted for Caynen. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“How long?” It had been, to his mind, too long already.

“Until both are ready. I’m told Sarcs are—” Yuhas looked embarrassed. “They’re unpredictable.”

“Giving you trouble, Yuhas?” asked Galen sud Serona as he entered and put down a tray of steaming cups.

“I’m not,” his son said pointedly. “And I’ve waited longer.” This with a sigh.

His father’s older brother. The resemblance was there if he looked for it, Enris thought. The kindness of the eyes, the careful strength of the hands, the patience. He’d gone to Galen for the wood of his bench. He’d gone to him when Kiric slipped from his mind, unable to share that burden with his parents.

“I—” What could he say now? Their Clan had been destroyed. How dare he be so ridiculously happy? Enris fought for words to explain, to apologize, and failed.

Galen’s hand pressed his shoulder. It’s all they ever wanted for you. Aloud, “Find joy, Enris sud Sarc.”

“Just not yet,” Yuhas added hastily.